


Independence Day

by whetherwoman



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-06
Updated: 2006-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/pseuds/whetherwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's almost pretty, isn't it."</p><p>"Almost. Not quite."</p><p>--Siege III</p>
            </blockquote>





	Independence Day

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-slash. References The Siege. Written after I watched the fireworks at the Washington Monument in DC.

Rodney watched the fireworks. John watched the back of Rodney's head. They had arrived barely five minutes earlier, carried in the crowd of people like so many ants. After a week of meetings and negotiations and barely concealed attempted political sabotage John hadn't felt much like pushing against the flow, and apparently Rodney felt the same way. It's not like they had really had plans, John reasoned, and they could probably follow the same flow of people right in to a bar as soon as the fireworks ended. After all, it wouldn't really be the fourth without some bad beer to round it off.

The hair on the back of Rodney's neck was curled with sweat and humidity. Rodney would probably appreciate a nice cold beer, even if he would gripe about it being American and horrible. John planned to get at least one Pabst just to set him off. With a little luck Rodney would keep going for at least a couple hours, and that would give John enough time to get nice and plastered before he was expected to say anything. John could deal with not having to think about what he said for the next eight hours. Or ten. Maybe even twelve.

"What?" John said, belatedly aware of Rodney's voice.

Rodney shot him a sideways glance. "Nothing."

John rewound the last couple seconds in his head. "I should hope it's _pretty_, Rodney, it'd be a waste of..." He stopped, remembering.

Rodney was silent a moment, then snorted, turning away from the fireworks to face John. "I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that your country's idea of a nice celebration is setting chemicals on fire above the heads of as many children as can be gathered in one place. All the bombs and rockets are right there in your national anthem, which, I can tell you, I am so happy to have just heard wailed out over a very poor sound system. Does anyone even pay attention to the words or are they just captivated by the enormous phallic symbol towering over their heads?"

Rodney was backlit by the explosions and John couldn't see his eyes. He studied Rodney's silhouette for a moment, then grabbed his shoulder. "Come on," he said. "We'll beat the rush."

"To the bars?" Rodney said, and started shoving his way through the crowd. He looked back at John with that same sideways glance. "I was thinking more vodka than beer."

John felt his mouth twist in a strange little grin as they stepped out into the street. "I'm sure there's a liquor store somewhere here. Easy enough to take it back to the hotel."

The sounds of the music that really had nothing at all to do with America faded behind them, leaving only the loud booms and pops. Their shadows were defined starkly in front of them by a flash, then fuzzed away. John found himself walking in step with Rodney, and for a second it felt almost like home.

Almost. Not quite.


End file.
